Darkness Within
by Sidewalk Doctor
Summary: Crossover with Angel: the series. Slightly AU... pretend that Angel S1 takes place at the same time as Smallville S3. After his encounter with Lana during Exile, what if Kal decides to escape to L.A.?
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

It was Friday night and the Beauty Bar was in full swing. The trendy West Hollywood club was a popular haunt among young Californians, and tonight was no exception. The bar was lined with hip young singles while still more crowded the floor and congregated outside the door. The interior of the club resembled a retro beauty salon more than a bar, with an overabundance of pink and various forms of beauty paraphernalia as its chief décor. During happy hour, customers could lounge on chairs and sip a martini while getting a manicure.

Normally, this would totally be Cordelia's kind of place, but tonight she was here on a mission—which would explain why she was stuck hanging with a broody vampire and a badly-dressed Irishman instead of her girlfriends. Well, she didn't exactly have any girlfriends in L.A. yet, but that was a minor technicality that would surely be solved soon. _Heaven forbid I ever get to go out for fun anymore,_ she reflected morosely. _No, the only time I ever get to see the inside of a club is when the Prophet of Doom here has another one of his visions. Save the damsel in distress, defeat the latest creature of the night, yada yada._ Just another day in her exciting life working for Angel Investigations.

"That girl over there… is that her?" Cordelia asked, pointing to a slender brunette standing across the room, by the door. She and Doyle were sitting at the bar where they could easily scope out the room for the girl in his latest vision. After he had shared the details of the bar he'd seen—lots of pink and "those chairs with hair dryer thingies on them"—Cordelia had pretty easily identified the Beauty Bar. However, finding the girl presented a bit more of a challenge.

He shook his head. "Nope… the girl I saw was more… I don't know, exotic. Strikingly beautiful, you know?"

"Yes, I know. You've only stressed that point about a zillion times." With a bored expression, Cordelia took a sip of her appletini.

"Well, I only figured it would help us find her."

"Oh yeah, a hot girl in L.A. Really narrows it down."

Doyle looked faintly amused. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"Please! Like I've ever been jealous of anyone in my life." Cordelia dismissed the notion with a toss of her hair.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Doyle replied dryly, but his blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

"I just wish Helen of Troy here would show up, get in trouble, so we can save her and get on with our lives," Cordelia grumbled. "Who knows, maybe she'll fall madly in love with you and I can have a moment's…"

The words died abruptly on her lips when she spotted the figure entering the bar. Instead, she interrupted her own sentence with, "Well, hello, salty goodness."

"Salty what?" Doyle swiveled his head to follow Cordelia's gaze to where a young man stood in the doorway of the club. He was tall, a good six two or three, with a slim but muscular frame beneath his blue shirt and tailored slacks. His dark hair was thick and wavy, falling in curling tendrils across his forehead. He had the kind of chiseled good looks you saw all over Hollywood, mostly on actors and models, which he most likely was. With those perfectly sculpted cheekbones and intense eyes, he had WB Show star written all over him.

The guy walked into the bar, casually taking in his surroundings as though he were clearly used to this kind of scene. His eyes skimmed across the scantily clad women all around him before coming to rest on Cordelia. He didn't smile, but the look in his eyes was clearly an invitation.

_Well now, _Cordelia thought, holding his gaze, _this evening just got a lot more interesting._

He'd seen a million places like this before. OK, well, maybe not a million per say, but a lot. There wasn't really anything remarkable about the Beauty Bar, except perhaps that it was the pinkest club Kal had ever seen. But it attracted a good crowd. It was fun. It gave him something to do to take his mind off the emptiness that surely awaited him once he walked out the door and returned to his life.

What there was of it.

So Kal scoped out the place as he usually did, looking for a sweet young thing to spend some time with, share a dance and a drink, make him feel alive for a few hours. He never did take any of the girls home, even if several were more than willing. He couldn't say what stopped him. Maybe he couldn't stand to use them that way, to see the same emptiness reflected in their eyes that he felt in his soul. Or maybe he knew that in the end, there wouldn't be any real connection. It was all a shoddy substitute for something he had left behind, something he could never have…

Some_one_ he could never have.

Unnerved, Kal brushed away the memories of a life he'd left behind. There was a reason he'd fled to L.A. Even in Metropolis, it turned out he'd still been too close to home. But here, this massive city that millions inhabited but no one called home, he could disappear. He'd be swallowed up by the glitter and the gloss and the bright lights sparkling amidst the shards of a million broken dreams. Including his own.

But tonight—no, tonight he wasn't going to think about that. Tonight was about escape. Tonight was about finding that one glimmer of light in the darkness he craved. It'd keep him warm for a while. And in the end, it was those little moments that he lived for.

God knew he had nothing else to.

He spotted her across the room, reclining on the barstool like a cat, elegant and impeccably beautiful. She was tall and lithe, with a knockout body and long dark hair cascading in thick, luxurious waves around a striking face. Parts of her reminded him of Lana—the effortless beauty, the spark in her eyes and genuine sweetness that seemed to glow from within. But unlike Lana, something about this girl told him she'd seen a lot, far more than most people her age. While there was a part of her that he was sure remained innocent, she'd _lived._ What innocence was left, well, L.A. would likely see to that.

Certainly not that shmuck by her side. Oh, Kal was sure he was a nice enough guy—but it still caught him off-guard that this beauty had chosen someone so… well, average. Or maybe not. Maybe she wanted someone safe. Comfortable. Predictable. Someone like he used to be, back in another time and another life. But then, he hadn't even had dependability to fall back on. He was sure the biggest burden this guy shouldered was how he was going to pay for his princess's next shopping spree, since it was evident from his battered leather jacket and scuffed shoes that he wasn't exactly rolling in money. As it was, the guy fixed Kal with a wary glance, edging ever so slightly closer to the brunette as if to say, "Mine!" Well, he needn't have worried. He'd not be without her for long.

Kal strolled up to the bar, flashed the female bartender his most dazzling smile. It had the desired effect. "What'll it be?" she asked.

"I'll have a Crown on the rocks, and send another appletini to the brunette over there." He nodded in the general direction.

And so it began.

"From the gentleman over there." The bartender nodded toward the guy Cordelia had spotted earlier, who lounged casually against the bar with the easy confidence borne out of being ridiculously good-looking and knowing it.

"Oh wow, he sent me a drink." Grinning, Cordelia took a sip of her appletini, despite the fact that she hadn't finished the first one yet.

Doyle scowled. "Well, that was slightly rude."

"Awww, don't feel bad. I'm sure he'd have sent you a drink if he rolled that way."

"How did he know you weren't with me?" Doyle demanded.

Cordelia arched an elegant eyebrow. "Because I'm not?"

"But he didn't _know_ that."

Cordelia set down the glass. "Whatever. Where is your girl, anyway? Don't you have a damsel to rescue?"

"Just as long as I don't end up having to rescue _you._"

"Please," Cordelia retorted disdainfully. "I can take care of myself—oh God, he's coming over."

"Goody," Doyle muttered.

It was almost midnight, and by now, the Beauty Bar was coming to life. The small floor area was rapidly filling with couples dancing to the hip-hop music blaring out of the speakers. Cordelia's latest admirer wove easily through the crowd, no doubt due to his height and stature as well as the effortless grace with which he moved. Everything about him screamed sophistication. She was willing to bet his clothes were all designer, and he drove a Rolls or Bentley and had some gorgeous pad in Brentwood or perhaps Laurel Canyon…

_Way to go, Cordy,_ she thought, mentally congratulating herself for somehow reeling this gem in.

The guy sidled up to the bar and, without so much as a word, held his hand out to Cordelia. Doyle adopted a would-you-believe-this-guy expression, and looked at Cordelia. Cordelia, however, was completely enraptured. Slipping her hand in her admirer's, allowed him to lead her to the floor.

She was feeling good; the appletini she'd drunk before was kicking in, Mariah's latest dance hit was playing, and she was the envy of every girl who'd spotted the guy by her side. He was an excellent dancer, moving with a natural rhythm and grace as she had predicted he would. Adrenaline—or maybe she was just buzzed--flowed through her body like liquid heat, warming her within and spreading through her limbs. His hands skimmed her slender waistline before coming to rest on her hips, pulling her closer to him, enough to nuzzle her hair. The booming bass echoed through the room and seemed to beat within her, her movements matching his almost without having to think about it. He was close enough that she smelled his cologne, blending with a clean and distinctive scent that was his alone. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair—it was somehow appropriate that his hair was almost as good as hers was—to be surrounded by those strong arms and just breathe him in…

Now, Cordelia wasn't prone to romantic daydreaming. It was true that as of the moment her attraction to this guy was purely physical. But there was something about him that was powerfully charismatic, incredibly tempting… besides, he was just so hot.

What did she have to lose?

Several minutes later, Kal was seated at the bar with his latest conquest. He didn't know where her boyfriend went—probably still skulking around somewhere. Whatever. He bought her a drink and dismissed the thought from his mind. "You know, I just realized we haven't introduced ourselves," he said as she sipped daintily from her appletini. "I'm Kal."

"Cordelia." She flashed him that dazzling smile of hers, the one that would surely have brought a weaker man to his knees. For a second he actually felt kind of sorry for her boyfriend.

"Nice to meet you, Cordelia," Kal replied, taking a sip of his Crown on the rocks. "So what brings you to the City of Angels?"

"How do you know I'm not from here?" she asked, hazel eyes glinting teasingly.

"Is there anyone _from_ L.A.?" Kal countered.

"Good point," she acknowledged with a wry smile. "I'm an actress."

"Interesting." He was willing to bet she'd never made it past a commercial on a local access channel or some po-dunk theater in NoHo.

"So what do you do?" Cordelia asked, seeming a little bewildered at his aloofness. It didn't surprise him. She was probably used to men tripping all over themselves around her.

"My work," he said vaguely.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Businessman."

"Oh, cool. Who do you work for?"

Damn, but she was a nosy one. "Free agent."

"Ahh, I see." She seemed to buy it, and he relaxed slightly. Time to change the topic of this conversation.

"You know, it's really loud in here. What do you say we head someplace more quiet?" Kal asked, turning on the maximum charm. "That is, unless you have to go back to your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend?" Cordelia looked blank, and then it dawned on her. "Oh, Doyle. He's not my boyfriend. We just work together." She extracted what looked like a business card from her purse. "I have a second job at Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless for a small but reasonable fee. If you or any of your friends ever needs help, feel free to give us a call."

"I'll remember that." Kal glanced down at the card. "What is that, a bird?"

"Ummm… it's not important. You have the number."

"That I do." With an indulgent smile, Kal tucked the card in his pocket and stood up. "Shall we?"

Flashing her sunny smile, Cordelia stood up as well. "Sure."

On the way out of the club, Cordelia figured she was obliged to tell Doyle she was taking off. Or course, she planned on coming back—it was just looking more and more like this vision was a bust, and maybe the Powers that Be weren't exactly on it tonight. Either way, she wasn't about to waste this opportunity for the sake of hanging around a bar listening to Doyle prattle on about the racetracks and then start singing weird Irish drinking songs when he had enough beers in him. Once again, how had she _ever_ ended up with this life?

"I'm tellin' ya, I have a bad feeling about this guy," Doyle warned Cordelia when she finally tracked him down, sitting on one of the aforementioned "chairs with hair dryer thingies" and nursing yet another consecutive Guinness.

"Why, he wasn't in your vision, was he?"

"I don't know," Doyle admitted hesitantly. "He could've been… it was hard to tell."

Cordelia sighed. "Yeah, like he's the only tall, dark, good-looking guy in L.A. Whatever. Anyway, I'm going, and I just thought I'd tell you so you didn't think I got waylaid by some demon or something."

"How do I know you're not about to?"

"Kal is not a demon!" Cordelia insisted. "He's rich, he's hot, and I'm sure he has a really nice car. Do not ruin this for me because you're jealous."

"My being jealous has nothing to do with it," Doyle fired back.

"Oh, please. It's a good thing you're a seer and not an actor." Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"I'm not jealous!" he insisted, scowling. "OK, well, maybe a little. But that's not why I have a bad feeling about him. I just like… I don't know, picked up on somethin.'"

"Ahh, that's right, you have some kind of demon spider sense, right?"

Doyle was looking increasingly uncomfortable—either that, or he was getting plastered, the more likely explanation. "Just… just be careful, OK?"

Still annoyed, Cordelia got up. "Fine, I will. And don't worry, it's not like I'm going to take him home or something. I'll be back."

But as Cordelia flounced off, Doyle still wasn't convinced.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Lana walked briskly down the dark street, shooting a wary glance over her shoulder every now and then. She hugged her coat more tightly around her, not because it was cold—was it really ever that cold in L.A? This was a territory completely foreign to her. Never in her sixteen years had she seen anything like this. Even Metropolis inspired a totally different feeling. The tawdry, faded glamour of West Hollywood had never really been matched by anything she'd seen. She wasn't sure this was a particularly safe area… despite the hordes of young people strolling along Hollywood Boulevard and the bright lights and gaudy neon signs adorning various night spots, something dark and sinister seemed to lurk in the shadows. It made her uneasy. It made her wonder if it was really such a good idea to run out looking for Clark the day she'd arrived.

It had been three days since she'd received the fateful phone call. It had been late one night at the Talon, and she'd been closing. The phone had rung, startling her. Not only because no one ever called this late, but every time the phone rang some irrational part of her hoped beyond hope that possibly, maybe it was Clark. Ever since she'd had that disastrous run-in with him at Metropolis, she should've known that wherever he'd ran off to, he didn't want to be found. Yet she couldn't help but keep hanging on, hoping that some part of him still remembered the people who loved him and wanted to come back home.

"Hello?" she'd said breathlessly, snatching up the receiver. There was no answer but light breathing. An odd feeling rushed over her, her heart beating faster and her breath catching in her throat. Somehow, instinctively, she knew it was him. She couldn't explain it. But never had she been so certain of anything in her life. "Clark?" she exclaimed. "Clark, is that you?"

_Click._ Gazing numbly at the phone for a moment, Lana hung up, beset with a sudden feeling of deep despair. But she could not hold back the sliver of hope that continued to burn inside of her. Clark hadn't given up on her. She sure wasn't giving up on him.

So she'd recruited Chloe to trace the phone call. "No offense or anything, but how can you be sure it's him?" the blonde asked skeptically.

"I just know, OK?" She was still holding a grudge against Chloe for not divulging Clark's whereabouts in Metropolis before, and didn't feel she owed her an explanation.

Chloe wasn't convinced. "Well, I did trace the call to a pay phone in West Hollywood. More specifically, a pay phone at 1638 North Cahuenga, outside a club called the Beauty Bar. I don't know what you're going to do with that knowledge, though."

"I'll take care of it," Lana said tersely. "Thank you for your help."

"I hope you're not thinking of running off to get him yourself," Chloe continued, seemingly oblivious of Lana's obvious desire to not talk to her. "You don't even know it was him. You could be going off on a wild goose chase…"

"Why else would anyone call me from a club in L.A.?" Lana countered.

"Wrong number?" Chloe suggested.

"A wrong number in Kansas?"

"Look, I just don't want you to get your hopes up for nothing," Chloe told her. "We're all worried about Clark and want him to come home. But you can't just go running off to L.A. based on a gut feeling."

"I really don't see how what I do is any of your business anymore," was Lana's cool reply. "You visited him in Metropolis all that time and didn't tell me a thing. I don't see how I owe you an explanation for my decisions. Again, thanks for your help, but this is something I need to take care of on my own."

Chloe only regarded her with a mixture of worry and pity. "I hope for your sake that you're right. But even if the call really did come from Clark, I think you should hold off on doing anything until you've had more time to think about it."

Lana knew that Chloe's advice was sensible, but she couldn't do it. Couldn't risk losing Clark again. So she took the money she'd saved up from the Talon, bought a cheap plane ticket and headed to L.A. She didn't allow herself time to worry about whether or not she should've planned or carefully or even told anyone she was going. She was afraid if anyone knew, they'd try to stop her. However, she did leave a note for Chloe and Gabe so at least they wouldn't call the police or something.

Now that she had arrived, Lana wondered if she should've researched the city a little more. She'd never been to L.A. before, and had made reservations online at a small hotel in West Hollywood. But once she'd arrived… well, suffice to say it didn't exactly look like the picture. The dilapidated old building sat amongst a row tenements with bars on all the first-floor windows. The lobby was shabby, her room small and dark. The lone window overlooked a narrow alley, where a homeless man sifted through the dumpster. The whole place wore an air of neglect and squalor than only intensified the rising tide of despair Lana was feeling.

Restless, unable to bear the idea of sitting in that room all evening, Lana finally ventured out with nothing but the piece of paper on which she'd scrawled the address of the Beauty Bar. Fortunately, the hotel was close enough that she had only to walk a few blocks. But it might as well have been a few miles, as far as she was concerned. Every noise she heard made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she was beginning to wonder if she was going to make it home herself…

Then she heard it again. Faint, but definitely there. Footsteps. She quickened her pace, hoping that whoever was following her wouldn't be able to sense her fear. Visions flashed through her mind of being mugged, raped, and left for dead in some grungy alley in L.A. The fighting skills Lex had taught her might've worked on a cocky frat boy, but she was sure there was no way she'd stand up to some hardened L.A. criminal.

She heard the footsteps approach and, throwing caution to the wind, frantically reached into her purse for something resembling a weapon. Damn Smallville—if only it weren't relatively safe to walk around at night, she might have pepper spray or something. She located her keys and, remembering a trick she'd learned way back when, placed a key between her fingers and lashed out and her assailant's face.

The sudden cry of agony she heard told her she'd hit home, but her attacker was too quick for her to make a break for it. She started to run but the person grabbed, her whirling her around to face them. It appeared to be a man in his early twenties or so, his skin a ghastly pale in contrast to the black shirt and jacket he wore. "Going somewhere, sweetheart?" he asked, a predatory smile across his face. Then his features seemed to shift and change before her very eyes, the flesh twisting and contorting around eyes that now glowed with a sickly yellowish hue.

Terror engulfed her as Lana struggled to free herself, but before she could even scream the thing grabbed her throat, pushing the very breath from her till bright spots danced before her eyes. _Oh God, I'm going to die,_ she thought, gradually feeling consciousness start to slip away as the thing dragged her into the nearby alleyway. This was even worse than she'd imagined. She would get maimed to death by a creature more frightening than any meteor freak she'd ever encountered.

"Give the girl a break; can't you see she's from out of town?" a new voice suddenly spoke up. Through the haze of approaching blackness Lana dimly made out a figure standing at the mouth of the alley, his long black coat flapping around him in the faint breeze. Lana's assailant released her as the newcomer suddenly lunged, tossing her back against the wall of the alley. Sliding to the dirty pavement, gasping, clutching her throat, Lana struggled to regain her senses as her rescuer and her attacker fought right in front of her. As her vision cleared, she watched in horror as the two black-clad figures battled with an inhuman ferocity that simultaneously amazed and terrified her. By now her rescuer gained the advantage and, in a finale no less strange than anything Lana had already seen his evening, withdrew what appeared to be a wooden stake from his coat and plunged it into the chest of her attacker. The creature gasped and staggered backwards, then immediately dissolved into a pile of dust in a matter of seconds. Lana couldn't hold back an audible gasp at the sight, and shrank further back against the wall.

Her rescuer then turned toward her, his features stark and dramatic in the dim lighting. Gulping for air, her throat still throbbing, Lana attempted to straighten up.

"Don't move," the stranger advised her, immediately at her side. "You might be hurt." He reached out and helped her to her feet. She grasped his hand, surprised to find his flesh cool to the touch. He appeared every bit as human as she was—a bit pale, perhaps, and come to think of it, rather handsome—but the sensation still startled her. Or perhaps she was just so shaken, she wasn't thinking straight.

Considering she'd just been attacked by a grotesque creature out of some kind of nightmare, then saved by a mysterious guardian angel in a black coat, it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.

"Th-thank you," Lana said unsteadily, knowing the words were pitifully inadequate to convey her gratitude to him for saving her life.

"Don't mention it," he said offhandedly. He looked at her with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Lana nodded, gradually getting her bearings "You saved my life."

He simply gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "You should've be walking around here alone at night," he said after a moment. "It isn't safe."

"I gathered that." She offered an awkward smile, their eyes meeting for a beat before he turned to walk away. He'd made it only a few steps before she called out, "Wait!"

He turned around. "What was that thing?" she asked, catching up to him. "That creature that attacked me… I've never seen anything like it. You seem to be familiar with them."

"I am. I've seen them around before."

"Oh…" She wasn't sure what to say to that. "Well, umm, this might sound crazy but I've seen a lot of strange things where I come from, but when I saw that thing… it was a different kind of feeling than anything back home. It was like… I sensed death. I smelled it… oh God, I'm totally freaking you out, aren't I?"

"No, you're not," was his frank reply. "I hear that a lot. Totally natural reaction."

"I guess every town has its own strange things, doesn't it?"

"Yeah… you could say that."

There was still one thing that nagged at her. "How did you know I wasn't from around here, anyway?"

"Let's just say it was pretty clear from looking at you."

"Oh lord… I really looked that lost?"

He shook his head. "You have this look about you… a kind of innocence, I guess. You wouldn't look that way if you've been here a while."

"Oh…." The more she learned about this city, the more Lana's uneasiness grew. "OK."

He started to walk away again, but she caught his arm to stop him. "I just have one more thing to ask you. Sorry if I'm holding you up," she apologized hastily, "but I actually came here looking for someone. I know it's a long shot, but can you tell me if you've seen him?"

Lana rummaged through her purse and withdrew the picture of Clark she'd brought. Her companion took it, frowning. Then he shook his head. "Haven't seen him. I'm sorry."

Crestfallen, Lana took back the picture. She knew she shouldn't have expected anything. L.A. was a huge city and the odds of this stranger having encountered Clark were infinitesimally small. Still, she couldn't hold back the crushing disappointment at hitting another dead end.

"Hey, listen," her rescuer spoke up, noticing her crushed expression. "I run a little agency…I work as a private investigator. If you'd like, we could help you find your friend."

Lana's hopes instantly skyrocketed. "Could you?"

"Sure. I can't guarantee anything, but we could try."

"Oh, thank you!" Lana was suddenly overcome by an urge to throw her arms around this mysterious savior, but held it in check. He somehow didn't seem like the most touchy-feely guy to her. Then, as quickly as her hopes rose, they took a nosedive as another thought occurred to her. "I don't know how much I can pay you… I mean, everything here is so much more expensive than I thought…"

"Don't worry about it," he replied without hesitation. "One thing at a time."

Lana didn't know what to say to express her gratitude. This man was truly her guardian angel. "I-I don't know what to say…."

"It's all right. This is what we do." He strode out of the alley and she followed, jogging a little to keep up with his long strides. "My associates are at the Beauty Bar right now, working another case. If you don't mind, I need to meet up with them. You're welcome to come along… that is, if you're old enough."

With a rather self-conscious smile, Lana showed him the Kansas Drivers' license she'd purchased from this guy at school who was famous for providing fake IDs. She was pretty sure that Lana Lang, Miss Goody Goody, purchasing a fake ID would feed the gossip mill for months.

Her rescuer regarded the ID with a wry expression. "I think it's safe to assume Tricia Burke isn't your real name."

She shook her head. "No… it's Lana," she said shyly. "And you're…?"

"Angel," he replied.

Somehow, she wasn't surprised. "It suits you."

The conversation lapsed into silence after that, the two of them each lost in their own thoughts. Lana only hoped that her timely rescue by this mysterious young man was a sign that her luck was about to turn around.

God knew she couldn't handle any more bad news.

"OK, so where did you want to go?" Cordelia chattered as she and Kal walked out of the Beauty Bar and onto the darkened street. "Mel's Diner is open 24 hours, and I could go for some fries now… I didn't have much at dinner…."

_Man, this girl can talk_, Kal reflected as they walked along. He supposed he should've found it endearing, but unfortunately, it was bordering on annoying. She didn't even seem fazed by his lack or responses—and when he did, they tended to be monosyllabic—rather, she seemed to regard his evasiveness as a challenge. Perhaps she should've pretended to be more fascinated by her, but his heart wasn't in it. It wasn't anything about her in particular. He'd come up to her looking for an evening of companionship. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't enough anymore…

Fortunately—or unfortunately, whatever the case may be—the disturbing turn his thoughts had taken was interrupted when _it_ happened. Again. The splitting pain, the terrifying sensation of all the air being forced from his lungs, the blood roaring in his veins till it threatened to burst out of his skin. He staggered, doubling over from a fresh wave of agony as he felt the skin on his chest start to burn and glow beneath his shirt.

Cordelia became alarmed. "Kal?" she asked, concerned. "Are you all right?" She rushed up to his side, reaching out to lend him her support. "Perhaps you should sit down…"

She took his arm. Her touch burned him like a white-hot iron. "Get away," he mumbled, jerking his arm free.

"What?" She looked confused.

"I said get away from me!" He shoved her roughly aside and she gasped, noticing the demonic red glow in his eyes.

"Oh God…" she whimpered, teetering on her high heels. Kal took the opportunity to stumble into the nearby alley, clutching his chest. A cry tore from his throat as a wave of burning pain took over. His skin literally felt like it was on fire. The fetid smell of smoldering flesh filled his lungs, his blood roiling as the reddish glow emanating from the symbol on his chest illuminated the alley. He dimly heard Cordelia screaming, her heels clicking against the pavement as she fled from the alley and straight into the arms of her co-worker/boyfriend/whatever he was, falling against him despite the fact that in her heels she had a good inch or so on him.

"Oh, God, Doyle…" Cordelia murmured, clutching his jacket. "You were right. I should've listened to you. But he was so hot! And rich! Why does it seem like every time I find the perfect guy he turns out to be some weird demon freak?"

"Um… just lucky, I guess," he said awkwardly, patting her back. "Umm… as much as I hate to interrupt this moment—and believe me, I _really_ hate to interrupt it—if he really is a demon, don't ya think we should maybe get out of here?"

Cordelia snapped back into the present. She and Doyle simultaneously turned their heads to where she'd left Kal in the alley. But whatever had incapacitated him must've passed, because all they saw was a dumpster and damp, grimy pavement littered with various forms of garbage.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Doyle and Cordelia were waiting outside the Beauty Bar when Angel and Lana arrived.

"Angel! Thank God you're here!" Cordelia exclaimed, running up to him. Her expression immediately shifted to one of anger. "Where the hell were you? We could've really used you when I was being hit on a by a demon!"

"You were hit on by a demon?" Angel said blankly.

"Yes! We were waiting for Doyle's vision girl to show up and then this guy walks in… totally gorgeous and let me tell you, he could dress. I bet he was rich, too… it's a shame he went all demon before I saw his car…"

"It's you!" Doyle exclaimed, cutting Cordelia off in mid-rant while staring at Lana. "You're the girl from my vision!"

Lana looked startled. "Your… vision?"

"Oh great," Cordelia grumbled. " I I /I nearly become demon food and all anyone can talk about is Vision Girl here."

Lana looked at Angel, completely baffled.

"He gets visions," Angel explained.

"More like migraines with pictures," Doyle added.

"Hello? In the midst of a story here?" Cordelia broke in, irritated. "Does no one care that I almost became demon food?"

"Sorry," Angel said contritely. "You were hit on by a rich handsome demon. Carry on."

"OK. Well, rich handsome demon guy went all nutso on me once we got outside," Cordelia continued. "I know Mel's Diner isn't the I classiest /I joint ever, but as soon as I mentioned it he just freaked out! His eyes got all weird and red and glowy, and then he like opens his shirt—and I must say, he had a nice chest, totally sculpted, tanned… I bet he has a personal trainer…"

"So he goes all demony and then I just so happen ta show up and…" Doyle cut himself off at the sight of Cordelia's warning glare. "All right, I followed her out. Was worried about her, ya know. Had a bad feelin' about this guy. Anyway, it was a lucky thing I got there before anything bad happened."

"Umm, rich handsome guy with great clothes turning out to be a freaky red-eyed demon? I'd say that's bad!" Cordelia exclaimed.

Lana, who had been standing by watching the whole thing with open curiosity, suddenly spoke up. "Hey… I know you're going to think this is random but…" She withdrew the picture of Clark from her purse for the second time that evening and showed it to Cordelia. "Is this your guy?"

"Yes! That's him!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Ew, is he wearing I plaid/I Thank God he got a new wardrobe."

The picture shook in Lana's hand. Angel stepped beside her and said, "Hey guys, not to interrupt or anything, but do you mind if we take this elsewhere than the front of the Beauty Bar at 1 a.m.?"

"Works for me. These heels are I killing /I me," Cordelia complained. "Hey, can we go to Mel's Diner? I am seriously craving some fries now…."

A half hour later, the gang was seated at a booth at the famous Mel's Diner in Hollywood, Cordelia and Doyle on one side and Lana and Angel on the other. Two baskets of fries and four Cokes (diet for Cordelia) sat in the middle of the table.

Angel introduced Lana to his associates, then briefly explained her case.

"Oh, excellent! A client from out of town." Cordelia perked right up. "This could be great exposure!"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm sure a lot of folks in Kansas will come out to L.A. to recruit us," Doyle said sarcastically.

He had been reaching into the basket of fries at the same time Cordelia did, and she slapped his hand. "Shut up." She turned back to Lana. "I'm not sure if we can accept out-of-state checks, but we could totally find a check-cashing place. I bet Doyle is familiar with them."

"That won't be necessary," Angel cut in firmly. "Don't worry about payment for now, Lana. We've barely begun work on this case. Cordelia, did you get anything on this guy other than his taste in clothing?"

"Yeah, his name is Kal," Cordelia answered, chewing on a fry. "He says he's a businessman. Free agent or something. He didn't want to talk about himself much."

"Poor bloke could probably barely get a word in edgewise," Doyle muttered.

"I heard people in that bar from Metropolis call him Kal," Lana spoke up. "I think it's his alias."

"No last name? Just Kal?" Angel asked.

"As far as I know."

"I need you to tell me anything you can about your friend," Angel said. "You say his real name is Clark Kent?"

Lana nodded. "Before he ran away, he lived on a farm with his parents. It's like he was a totally different person. He was sweet, funny, loyal… he was always there when I needed him. He was my best friend. At least I thought he was." Her voice grew softer on the last sentence.

"Have you noticed anything unusual about him?" Angel continued, the kindness in his eyes reflecting that her pain did not go unnoticed. "Anything different?"

"Well… he does always seem to have a knack for being around whenever someone is in trouble," Lana recalled. "A lot of weird stuff happens around him."

"So? A lot of weird stuff happens around me, I'm no demon," Cordelia pointed out. She jerked a thumb in Doyle's direction. "And him, he's like the seer of weird stuff. Yet he's perfectly harmless, nothing demonic--well, unless you count that outfit, which is I killing /I me."

Doyle, who had recently developed an intense interest in the ketchup bottle sitting in front of him, suddenly protested, "Hey, what's wrong with my outfit?"

"What kind of weird stuff?" Angel asked Lana, seemingly oblivious to his friends' bickering.

"Well… you're going to think this is crazy, but Smallville had this meteor shower…." She proceeded to give a cliff notes version of the "meteor freaks" and other odd meteor rock-related occurrences. She also brought up how Clark always seemed to save her when things went wrong.

"Nice. We get demons and creatures that go bump in the night, and you guys get meteor freaks," Cordelia remarked. "I wonder which is worse."

"Do you think Clark might be one of these 'meteor freaks?'" Angel asked Lana.

"For a while I did," Lana admitted, "but then I figured he couldn't be. Don't you think that since we've had so much contact with them, he'd have told me by now?"

"Not necessarily," Doyle said. "That might be exactly why he doesn't tell you. He's seen how you react to them. I mean you call them meteor freaks. He could be afraid of what you'd think of him, that you'd change yer mind about him."

Lana sat silently for a moment, biting her lip. "Well… he'd still be Clark, right? Still the same guy he always was."

"Perhaps, but you wouldn't look at him differently? You wouldn't see a meteor freak every time you look at him?"

Lana gazed uncomfortably at the scratched formica surface of the table. "We don't know that he's a meteor freak."

"Yeah, he could be a demon," Cordelia jumped in. "Either way we know he's not a real boy."

"Ahh, tact thy name is Cordelia," Doyle observed with more than a trace of sarcasm.

"Well, we really don't know much about this guy at all," she pointed out. "If you ask me, the sweet little farm boy Lana describes doesn't mesh at I all /I with the guy I met at the Beauty Bar tonight. Talk about split personalities."

"You mentioned that Clark was like a different person back home," Angel reminded Lana "How so?"

"Well… it wasn't till he ran away this summer that he changed," Lana answered. "There was an accident at the farm, and his mom lost her baby. He freaked out and felt responsible for some reason. He disappeared for months and I never heard from him… I probably never would have if my friend hadn't stumbled upon him in Metropolis. When I went to see him, he was different. He'd become… darker. Cocky. Aggressive. He no longer seemed to care about anyone or anything that used to be important to him."

Angel frowned. "Lana, have you seen Clark in daylight recently?"

Lana seemed startled by the question. "Yes, I've seen him in daylight… why do you ask?"

"He's no vamp," Cordelia said right away. "I'm from Sunnydale; I know vamps. We are dealing with a whole other kind of demon here."

"But he looks human," Lana protested, still unable to believe she was actually having this conversation. At home, it was meteor freaks. Here, it was demons and vampires. Her life was growing stranger by the day.

"Some demons can look very much human," Angel informed her.

"Yeah, like hybrids," Doyle jumped in.

"Hybrids?" Cordelia echoed.

Doyle nodded. "Half demon, half human. They can look completely human, and in some cases their… er, demon half doesn't appear till later in life. D'you know anything about Clark's family, Lana?"

"I assure you both Mr. and Mrs. Kent are human," said Lana dryly. "But then, Clark is adopted. He knows nothing of his birth parents."

"The plot thickens," Cordelia remarked. She turned to Doyle. "How do you know so much about these hybrids, anyway? You date one or something?"

"I… ummm… been livin' here a while. You learn stuff," Doyle said vaguely.

Cordelia shot him one of her why-are-you-so-weird looks and turned back to Angel and Lana. "So you're thinking Clark might be half demon?"

"It's really hard to say at this point. We're making a lot of assumptions without much fact to back them up," Angel remarked. "I suggest we head home and hit the books tomorrow. We're going to find out everything we can about Smallville and this meteor shower. Lana, what about your friend's Wall of Weird? Anything relevant on it?"

"Nothing worth contacting her over," Lana said dryly. "Not to be difficult or anything, but she and I are not exactly on the best of terms now."

"Understandable. I know this chick in Sunnydale who used to sort of be my friend, mostly through mutual friends because it's highly unlikely I'd ever elect to hang out with her voluntarily," Cordelia commiserated. "She turned out to be a boyfriend-stealing witch."

"Cordelia, that's terrible," Lana said. "I understand you're angry, but to call her a witch…"

"No, she really is a witch. Like hocus pocus, Salem, all that crap." Cordelia waved a fry for emphasis. "Anyway, I still have to talk to her about computer stuff, so sometimes you just have to put a person's lameness aside for the greater good." She grabbed Doyle's Coke and took a sip

"Hey, get your own!" Doyle protested, reclaiming his Coke.

"Diet Coke is foul. I couldn't stand it anymore," Cordelia complained. "It's not my fault this place doesn't have Pepsi."

"If you don't like diet Coke then why didn't you get regular?"

"Duh, empty calories!" Cordelia exclaimed, as if it should've been obvious.

"You're eating cheese fries.".

"Well, you have to decide which empty calories are worth it."

Doyle just looked mystified, almost as much as Lana did. It was 2 a.m., she was sharing cheese fries with a handsome stranger, a SoCal princess, and an Irish expatriate seer. She'd just found out her boyfriend could be a meteor freak or a demon hybrid.

Suffice to say it had been a long day.

Angel signaled the waitress for the check, and it wasn't long before they headed out. "Lana, where are you staying?" Angel asked. "I'll give you a ride."

"I'm at the Metropolitan," Lana explained.

"The Metropolitan? Ewww. That place is nasty," Cordelia said disdainfully. "Isn't it run by a demon or something?"

"Could be. Either way, it's no place for someone like Lana," Angel concluded. "Cordelia, would you mind terribly if she stayed with you? She might be more comfortable with you than with me."

"It's no problem," Cordelia said right away. "We can swing by the Metropolitan Dive and get her stuff. But if you're going to make me and Doyle wait in the car, can we have a weapon? 'Cause let me tell you, that place wigs me out…"


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

A half an hour later, Lana and Cordelia arrived at Cordelia's Silver Lake apartment.

"So this is it, my humble abode. Isn't it fabulous?" Cordelia chirped as she and Lana walked in.

The apartment was indeed very cute and cozy. Lana set her bag down on the coffee table while Cordelia set down her purse and took off her jacket. "I wasn't counting on having company, so if there's anything you need, let me know. I'm afraid the best I can do for you tonight is the couch. Is that OK?"

"Trust me, it's better than the Metropolitan," Lana assured her.

"Well, that doesn't take much." Cordelia disappeared into the kitchen. "Want some tea? It's been a long day, and I find it helps me relax."

"Sure," Lana accepted. She sank down onto the couch, which felt absolutely luxurious after a day of sitting in airport waiting rooms, two planes, and then a bus. A few minutes later, Cordelia returned carrying two steaming mugs. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Lana accepted the mug and took a sip. She was about to set it down on the coffee table when a coaster literally floated over and set itself down in front of her.

"Oh!" She jumped, nearly spilling the tea.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, I have a roommate," Cordelia said nonchalantly. "He's a g-h-o-s-t… but he's kinda sensitive about that, so we'll use the term corporeally challenged. Dennis, be good!" She picked up a little bowl and offered it to Lana. "Sugar?"

"Thanks." Lana dropped a couple of sugar cubes in her tea, still a little wigged out by Cordelia's incorporeal roommate. Every time she thought there was no way for this day to get any weirder, it did.

"So what's the deal with this Kal guy, anyway?" Cordelia asked as casually as most people would ask about the weather. "Or Clark, whatever his name is. I would _never_ have guessed that the guy I met tonight came from a place called Smallville, Kansas. Does he have a split personality or what?"

"With Clark, you never know," Lana admitted. "Most of the time, he's just the sweetest guy in the world. But he does these strange things sometimes… things that don't make sense. He acts all weird and can give no explanation for it."

"Umm, Lana, that's called a typical guy. They're flakes by nature," Cordelia said dismissively. "Maybe he's going through some kind of phase. This guy I used to date, he was like a terminal social zero, and then one week he goes and buys an old sports car and tries to act all badass and stuff. It was pretty sad. In the end, you take away the shades and the leather and the fancy car, and what do you get? Same old Hawaiian shirt-wearing Klingon dictionary-owning shmuck. Or in your case a flannel-wearing hay-baling half-demon shmuck."

Lana regarded Cordelia doubtfully. "You really think he's half-demon? "

"Well, it would explain a lot. What I saw tonight… he wasn't just an average guy," Cordelia told her. "There's something going on, that's for sure."

"Maybe he's… I don't know, possessed?" Lana's mind still couldn't quite wrap around the idea of Clark being anything but human.

"Hey… being um, not exactly human isn't always bad," Cordelia pointed out. "Remember the boyfriend-stealing witch I told you about? Well, she's dating a werewolf. Has been for a while. But Oz is like the nicest guy. You'd never even know it most of the time. You just gotta make sure he's locked up the three nights surrounding the full moon, and it's all good."

Yep, the night was definitely capable of getting even weirder. "Werewolves, vampires… no offense or anything, but your hometown sounds almost as weird as mine," Lana commented.

"Oh, it is," Cordelia agreed. "That's life on the hellmouth for you. You never know if you're dating the undead. This other friend of mine… well, it's kinda complicated. She was dating a vampire for a while. But he was a good vampire. Like with a soul. Not the least bit evil at all."

"A vampire with a soul," Lana repeated. And the weirdness continues.

"Yeah, sounds crazy, huh?" Cordelia went on. "But it did get kinda messy for a while. See, after, um, let's say when she gave him some happy he went evil. Had to do with this gypsy curse…he experiences a moment of true happiness and bye-bye soul, yada yada. Anyway, he went evil again, started killing, went after her and everyone she loved. He was a twisted one."

"Oh, my God... that's horrible." Lana tried her best to imagine what the situation must have been like. She'd seen some pretty horrific events in Smallville, but nothing on par with this.

"Oh, it was terrifying. We had to do spells and stuff to protect all the places he'd been invited to. My car smelled like garlic for months." Cordelia shuddered dramatically. "But luckily, we were able to stop him before he could bring about the apocalypse—it's a long story, has to do with opening a portal into hell, blah, blah. My witch friend was able to restore his soul, but it was too late. My friend, the one in love with him, had to kill him in order to save the world. But after a brief sojourn in a hell dimension he came back again, soul intact. As long as he and my friend didn't get pelvic, everything was all right."

"But that's still terrible," Lana commented, still absorbing this incredible story. "I mean, how can you ever expect to have a normal relationship with someone like that?"

"You can't," was Cordelia's answer. "But she loved him. It's kind of hard to tell your heart to stop loving someone… even if they're a vampire with a soul, or cheating Klingon-speaking loser." Her voice grew softer on the last part. "So I guess what it comes down to is if it's worth it. Are you willing to try to have a relationship, knowing how it's going to be?"

Lana was quiet for a moment. "I guess I don't really have a choice," she said at last. "I really do love him, Cordelia."

"Enough that you'd still love him if you found out he wasn't human?"

Lana stared into her teacup, as though she'd find the answers floating atop the warm liquid. "What did your friend do when she found out that her boyfriend was a vampire?"

"Well, I don't know… we weren't that close then," Cordelia confessed. "But I imagine she had a moment of wiggage. Then she dealt. I guess she knew that being a vampire really didn't change who he was. He was the same guy she fell for even before he got all fangy."

"So they're still together?" Lana asked.

Cordelia hesitated, then shook her head. "He had to go away."

Lana waited for her to say more, but when she didn't, she awkwardly set down her empty mug. "Well, it's been a long day. I guess we should probably get some sleep."

"Yeah, I'm pretty beat, myself." Cordelia started to gather up the teacups and bowl of sugar, when she noticed the troubled expression on Lana's face. "Hey.…" Setting down the cups, Cordelia reached out rested a comforting hand on Lana's arm. "We don't know anything for sure yet. There could be all sorts of factors at work with Clark. It could be possession, or magic… we'll find out more tomorrow when we do some research. It's wise to prepare yourself for the possibility, but just remember this is all speculation at this point, OK?"

Lana nodded, grateful for Cordelia's comforting words. Just when she thought she had her pegged as a spoiled SoCal rich bitch, she turned around and showed genuine compassion and yes—wisdom. Cordelia's hometown certainly sounded every bit as strange as Smallville. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than Lana realized.

Cordelia rose to her feet and collected the two mugs. "I'm going to hit the sack. I'll get you some blankets and pillows. Let me know if you need anything else. Towels are in the linen closet, and feel free to use the bathroom while I clean up."

"All right." Lana rose, too. "Thanks again for letting me stay here. It was really kind of you."

"It's no problem. Glad to help." Cordelia disappeared into the kitchen.

Lana grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, and various other toiletries and headed to the bathroom to find that Dennis had already placed a towel there for her. But she was past the point of being weirded out. At the moment, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and put this whole bizarre day behind her.

What tomorrow might bring, she could only guess.

"We've located your man, sir," the voice over the phone reported confidently.

"Excellent." The man smiled, gazing out of his office window at the Metropolis skyline. "And you're sure your source can be trusted?"

"It came straight from the horse's mouth. We apprehended Edge this morning and, well, suffice to say we have ways of making him talk," the other man replied. "Turns out he helped your man disappear to sunny California. We've already contacted our flagship L.A. branch, and they're on the case."

"Good work," the man on the other end of the line said appreciatively. "I knew you wouldn't fail me."

"Yes, Mr. Luthor," was his lawyer's crisp reply. "Only the best for one of Wolfram and Hart's most valued clients."

"Keep me posted," Lionel told the lawyer. With that, he ended the call, triumphant. So Clark thought he could give him the slip--the latest of many mistakes on the boy's part. Lionel knew that Clark's disappearance from Smallville and the subsequent advent of Metropolis's Masked Menace were no coincidence. If there was anything Lionel was sure of, it was that young Mr. Kent was no ordinary boy. There was only so much a simple farm boy and his parents could keep to themselves, particularly in a town like Smallville. Particularly considering that Lionel, as head of Luthorcorp, had eyes and ears virtually everywhere.

He had utmost confidence that the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart could take care of the problem. No need to get his hands dirty if he didn't need to. The boy would be in his custody soon enough, along with all of his secrets.

After Cordelia and Lana departed, Angel and Doyle walked out of the diner discussing their latest case.

"I still don't feel right about this whole thing," Doyle said uneasily. "I'm tellin' ya, I got… vibes off this Kal/Clark/whatever he calls himself."

"Vibes," Angel repeated, waiting for his friend to elaborate.

"Yes, vibes," Doyle repeated. "I don't know. Something's not right… I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, according to Cordelia's description, this Kal guy doesn't match at all with Lana's description of her Clark," Angel pointed out. "Well, physically he does, but that's about it. What would a Midwestern farm boy be doing in L.A? What could be so bad back home that he'd be willing to run this far?"

"And then start actin' like some Colin Farrell knockoff, scamming on underage girls in clubs," Doyle muttered, his frown deepening to a scowl.

Angel arched an eyebrow. "Doyle, are you sure that none of this bad feeling of yours has to do with Cordelia?"

"Well, I'm not going to lie, the guy could give me some real competition," Doyle admitted grudgingly. "But don't worry, as soon as she found out he might be part demon she was done with him, Calvin Klein model looks and all." His triumphant expression abruptly collapsed under the weight of his own statement.

"He could also be something else entirely," Angel mused. "Something tells me Smallville isn't exactly your average po-dunk farm town. Lana's in over her head. She's got feelings for this Clark guy, and it might be clouding her judgment. Who knows what might happen if he finds her?"

"He's smooth," Doyle mentioned. "Trust me, I know."

"Until we get this all figured out, we can't leave Lana alone," Angel decided. "I'm not taking any chances. We'll have Cordy keep her company while we do some investigating."

"Heaven help the poor lass," Doyle quipped, under his breath. He looked up at Angel. "How did you know, anyway? That Lana had feelings for Clark?"

For a moment, a brief shadow flashed across Angel's expression. "I can tell these things. Why else would she impulsively fly across the country with no plans, no money, no nothing?"

Doyle noticed that something had shifted in Angel's tone, and simply nodded his acknowledgement. "Well, I'd best be goin' now, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Might get me a brew to help me sleep, ya know, after all the excitement."

"Whatever works for you," was all Angel had to say to that. "We'll meet at the office, 9 a.m. Don't be late."

"Umm, Angel, it's three in the morning," Doyle objected. "Can't it wait till ten?"

But his words fell on deaf ears. Angel had already taken off, disappearing into the shadows like he always seemed to do.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Hey Chloe, you feeling all right? You seem distracted," Pete remarked. He'd breezed in the Torch office a few minutes ago to check in on his friend, but it was clear she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

He was right, of course. Chloe had been staring blankly at the computer screen for several minutes and had no idea what she was looking at. "I'm worried about Lana," she admitted. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but I really wish she'd said something to me before just taking off like that. She doesn't know anything about L.A. Who knows what kind of trouble she might have gotten herself into?"

Pete pulled up an uncomfortable plastic chair and sank down onto it, backwards. "Look, I know you're concerned, but Lana's a smart and capable girl. She has been co-running a business with Lex for two years already."

"Yes, but she's not exactly rational when it comes to Clark, in case you didn't notice," Chloe reminded him. "And the last time I saw him in Metropolis… I never thought I'd see the day I say this but he kind of scared me. The way he looked, the way he acted… I'd never seen him that way before."

"You know Clark's acted pretty crazy from time to time," Pete said carefully, as not to give anything away. "And he did have a rough time of it a few months ago, what with Mrs. Kent losing the baby and all. It's probably just a phase."

"I hope you're right." Chloe didn't look convinced. "I only hope for Lana's sake that he comes to his senses. If you'd only seen him that day… I'm telling you, it's the only time I've ever believed he might be dangerous. What if he hurts Lana?"

"Clark would never hurt Lana," Pete said without hesitation. "Do you really think he's capable of hurting anyone?"

Chloe was clearly conflicted, a troubled look in her eyes. "I really hope not."

"She'll be OK, Chloe," Pete insisted, his tone reassuring. "I'd wait a little while more before you start freaking out. See if she calls. Besides, it's not like there's anything you can do about it. What are you going to do, buy a plane ticket and take off?"

To his surprise—or in retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have been; he was dealing with Chloe here—she really seemed to be thinking it over. "Oh, no," he said, recognizing her wheels-are-turning expression. "No way, man. Where are you gonna come up with the money for that?"

"I don't know," Chloe admitted. "I do have some saved up from my Daily Planet internship--"

"Enough for round trip airfare, a place to stay, food, and all that fun stuff?" Pete countered.

That was enough to put a damper on Chloe's hopefulness. "I can't ask my Dad to go. He couldn't get away, and even if he could, I highly doubt he'd be on board with the idea."

"And with good reason," Pete agreed. "Chloe, come on. You seriously need to sit back and think about it. Lana will be OK, I'm sure."

But it wasn't Lana that was Chloe's sole concern. Despite their last encounter, she was still fascinated by the ever-evolving enigma that was Clark. Once she thought she had him figured out, he went and did something even crazier. Perhaps by cornering him in L.A., she might catch him off-guard, and finally figure out what was going on behind those green eyes of his. It was too good of an opportunity to waste.

Besides, she always did want to see L.A. It would give her something new to write about, if nothing else.

"Well…" Chloe began, an idea slowly forming in her mind. "I do know one close friend of Clark's with the resources to help us out… and surely he's as concerned as I am."

Pete's eyes opened wide. "Oh, no. Ohhhhh, no. You are _not_ going to see Lex Luthor for help."

"Why not?" Chloe countered. "If there's anyone who can help us out it's him. I'm sure he's got contacts in L.A. If I can't go myself, at least I can get him to help out. He'll make sure Lana is safe. He wouldn't want anything to happen to his business partner."

"Yeah, what's up with that, anyway? That whole thing with Lex and Lana gives me the heebie-jeebies. That guy ain't right," Pete said, a severely creeped-out expression across his face.

"Pete, I know you don't like Lex or his family, but think about Lana," Chloe told him. "I'm doing it for her."

"Right," Pete agreed, but his thoughts didn't match his words. The day Chloe didn't do something at least partially for her own benefit was the day he ran off to join the priesthood. "I hope for your sake—and Lana's—that you're right. If not, well, don't say I didn't warn you about getting involved with a Luthor."

"Oh, I know, Pete," Chloe assured him. "Trust me, I know."

And she did. Far better than he thought. But she could hold her own. She wasn't a pushover; she sure wasn't going to let anyone tell her what to do, no matter how rich, powerful, or unscrupulous.

If any Luthor thought he was going to get the best of her, well, he'd better think again!

A file folder lay atop the conference table. The spare, modern room had only three occupants, making it seem even more sterile than usual. The plate-glass windows afforded the room's occupants a sprawling vista of downtown L.A., at the heart of which sat the high rise housing the offices of Wolfram and Hart.

The law firm's president of special affairs, Holland Manners, sat facing two of the firm's brightest young lawyers, Lilah Morgan and Lindsey McDonald. Without a word, Mr. Manners slid the folder across the table. Lilah grabbed it first and opened it, Lindsey peering over her shoulder.

"Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas," Lilah read, perusing the contents of the folder. After a moment she slapped it shut and said skeptically, "You have us investigating some farm boy from Hickville U.S.A.?"

"Miss Morgan, surely you have enough experience to know that there is more to some individuals than meets the eye."

"Well, he's clearly not a vampire, seeing as these pictures show him in broad daylight and all."

"He a demon of some kind?" Lindsey asked, his brow furrowed.

"We don't know what he is," Manners replied. "The case was referred to us by a longtime client of our Metropolis branch, Lionel Luthor. The man's reputation precedes him. I know Luthor; he's not the type to waste our time. This Clark Kent is… different. Look through the file."

Lilah opened the file again and she and Lindsey spent a few moments poring over its contents. "OK, so this kid miraculously saves Luthor's son after getting hit by a car and falling off a bridge."

"Check these out," Lindsey added, flipping through a series of papers recounting more odd, death-defying, and miraculous feats performed by the Kent boy. "This kid is some kind of hero."

"Yeah, and judging by these files, it's a pretty safe bet he's anything but human," Lilah surmised. "So what kind of demon are we dealing with? Must be a shapeshifter of some kind, because he looks completely human to me."

"We've found no demons matching his description in our records," Manners informed them. "None seem to have this boy's unique strengths and weaknesses."

"What weaknesses?" Lilah wanted to know.

"It seems the boy's powers revolve around a meteor shower that occurred approximately thirteen years ago. There are no records of Clark Kent before that date… only that his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, adopted him shortly thereafter. His powers seem to come and go. It's uncertain as to exactly why, but clearly this boy has some form of an Achilles heel."

"Interesting," Lilah murmured. "So we might have an extraterrestrial demon on our hands."

"Check this out," Lindsey jumped in, still going through the file. "Looks like farm boy has a dark side."

"A string of bank and ATM robberies this summer in Metropolis," Lilah said after checking out the file. "The perpetrator matches his description. And all this just so happens to coincide with the time the Kent boy ran away from home. Hmm… good student, no history of violence or delinquent behavior, suddenly goes bad."

"And before _that,_ a mysterious but massive explosion was reported in the vicinity of the Kent Farm. Lit up the whole town like a Christmas tree," Lindsey added.

"And now he's skipped town," Manners summed up. "Our Metropolis branch has informed us that young Mr. Kent has recently arrived in the City of Angels. He apparently goes by an alias, 'Kal,' although there are no records of bus, train, or plane tickets under that name or his real name. However, reports have come in of several ATM robberies in West Hollywood and Century City."

"Jeez, you'd think the kid would change his M.O.," Lindsay remarked. "Not very good at covering his tracks."

"Does he need to be? With the kind of powers he has, it shouldn't be difficult to dispose of anyone who stands in his way," Lilah commented. She turned to Manners. "So what do you want us to do?"

"I want you to find the Kent boy and bring him to us. If we could study him, figure him out, or best yet, turn his loyalties to us, he could be a tremendous asset. He could be just the weapon we need to eliminate certain… complications."

Lilah and Lindsey did not reply, only returned Manners' complacent smile with smiles of their own. Both young lawyers knew exactly what complications Manners referred to. If they succeeded, it could be the beginning of something big.

Or it could very well be the beginning of the end.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"Hello, Angel Investigations, helping the hopeless for a small but reasonable fee. How may I direct your call?" When her only answer was the dial tone, Cordelia scowled and hung up. "Crap, that wasn't our phone. Whose was it?"

"Sorry, it's mine," Lana said sheepishly, flipping open her cell phone.

"Can't you get it to play like, some cheesy pop song or something?" Cordelia wanted to know. "That way we can at least distinguish it from our phone."

"Don't mind her, she's kinda cranky when she hasn't had her morning coffee. And after she's had it," Doyle said offhandedly, without looking up from the ancient book he had open on his lap. What the rest of the room's occupants didn't know was that there was a copy of _Sports Illustrated_ hidden inside the book, the swimsuit issue.

"Great, now why don't you get back to your incredibly useful study of Miss January?" Cordelia shot back sarcastically.

"I was reading about supernatural rites and rituals!" Doyle held up the book as if to provide evidence.

"Yes, and they appear to involve spandex, tanning oil, and lots of silicone." Angel strode by and snatched up the magazine in one smooth movement.

Doyle, looking flushed and indignant, turned away from Cordelia's withering gaze.

Meanwhile, Angel had seated himself on the sofa and was peering a little too long at whatever page the magazine had fallen open to. Cordelia gaped, hazel eyes practically shooting sparks. "Angel!"

He jumped, then appeared to catch himself. "Oh. I, er…." He quickly tossed the magazine onto a nearby coffee table, then turned it over when he caught sight of the buxom bikini-clad model on the front cover.

Lana regarded the whole thing with a mixture of amusement and impatience as she strained to hear the crackling voice on the other end of the line. For a moment her heartbeat rocketed when she thought it might be Clark, but the voice turned out to be unmistakably female. "Sorry, it's noisy in here and the signal's not picking up too well," Lana said. "I'm going outside." She headed out the door while Cordelia proceeded to get up, grab the offensive magazine, and toss it in the desk drawer.

"Lana, can you hear me?" the caller asked. "It's me, Chloe!"

Lana's tone instantly went cool. "Oh, hi."

"Well, don't bowl me over with excitement or anything."

_Did you expect me to throw a party over hearing from you?_ Lana thought, but didn't say. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you, that's all."

"Are you going to be mad at me forever?" Lana could practically hear the pout in her friend's voice.

Lana sighed. "No, but I… I'm still going to need some time. Keeping Clark's whereabouts from me the way you did, when I was worrying every day and night, isn't something I'm going to get over instantly."

"I know, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I just can't stand the idea of you being mad at me any longer. You're my best friend."

Lana hesitated, biting her lip. Chloe sounded so earnest. Still, it wasn't like she could shut off the lingering feelings of hurt and betrayal. But it was hard to stay mad when Chloe really seemed repentant.

"Besides, I was calling to tell you that I'm here," Chloe rushed on. "In L.A."

For a moment Lana swore her connection must've gone wonky on her. "What? You're breaking up. I thought you said you were in L.A."

"That's because I did. I mean, I am. In L.A."

"You're in L.A.," Lana echoed, still wondering if she was hearing things.

"Again, no need to bowl me over with excitement."

"Sorry, I'm just a little shocked. You're in L.A.? What for?" A frown crept over Lana's delicate features. Chloe hadn't finagled Gabe into coming to get her, had she?

"Relax, I'm not here to get you," the other girl said, as if reading her thoughts. "I'm here to help you find Clark. I'm worried about him, too, Lana. And I'm also worried about you. Being in the city alone, when you've never been there before… there's no telling what might happen to you."

"I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself," was Lana's cool reply. "Besides, I'm working with a private investigator to find Clark… it's kind of a long story. His name is Angel—whether that's his first or last name, I'm not sure. I haven't heard anyone call him anything else. But he's a good guy, and he seems very capable. He won't let me get into trouble."

"That's reassuring," Chloe commented, but she didn't seem totally convinced. "You're sure you can trust this guy?"

"I am. I know I haven't always had the best instincts about people, but he's proven himself. He… he kind of saved me. From a…." She wasn't sure if she wanted to get into that strange, deformed creature who'd attacked her. Chloe's reporter instincts would kick in and Lana knew where that would lead. "A mugger," she finished lamely. "Besides, he has an office and two assistants who seem to trust him with their lives. And he has business cards."

"Because business cards always mean someone is legit," Chloe said dryly. "I hope for your sake you're right, Lana. I'd like to meet this Angel guy myself sometime. Anyway, since I'm in town and all, I was hoping you'd want to meet up for lunch or something. What do you say?"

Lana thought for a moment. She had tagged along with Cordelia to the office today, and spent most of the morning researching and discussing bizarre lore of the demonic and supernatural variety with Angel, Cordelia, and Doyle. Apparently, it wasn't uncommon for demons to arise in the San Fernando Valley or for vampires to roam about the city streets after dark. Apparently, that was what the creature who'd attacked Lana the night before was—a vampire.

So for the most part, she was reeling from the loads of information she had taken in over the course of the morning. She supposed that growing up in Smallville, home of the meteor freak and Wall of Weird, should've prepared her for finding out that the stuff of cheesy horror flicks and scary stories were real, but it really didn't. However, it did make the notion a little easier to accept.

But it didn't make it any less frightening.

So Clark was out there, alone, surrounded by demons and vampires and who knew what other things that go bump in the night. What if he'd fallen prey to one of them? What if they had even—and the possibility terrified her more than anything—made him one of them?

Lana forced herself to put a stop to the increasingly macabre turn her thoughts had taken and concentrate on the present. "Well, I'm downtown right now, so maybe we could meet somewhere nearby for lunch. I'm at Angel's office so I'll ask one of his assistants if they know of anywhere good. Is that OK?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"Where are you staying, anyway? If there's one thing I learned since I got here it's that distances are a lot farther in L.A. than I thought. I'll ask how much time you'll need to get here."

"Oh, it's no biggie. Lex put me up in the Beverly Hills hotel. He's been here several times so he'll know how long it'll take."

Lana almost dropped the phone. "Wait, wait. The signal must be breaking up again because this time I thought I heard you say you came with Lex."

"I did." Lana could practically hear Chloe rolling her eyes. "You're not going to start in on me, too, are you? You of all people should know that Lex isn't the monster everyone makes him out to be. He's done a lot of nice things for us."

Lana had to admit that Chloe had a point. Lex was her business partner, so she liked to think she knew him better than most. She wasn't as suspicious of him as Pete was. Most of the time, he seemed trustworthy enough.

"He wants to help, Lana. He's worried about Clark, too. With his resources, finding him should be a lot easier. Plus you're working with that P.I. I'm sure we'll find him in no time, and maybe Lex can do what neither of us was able to—convince Clark to come home."

The sting of Chloe's words hit Lana full force. She had always thought she and Clark shared something special, that at some point, they might have been in love. The idea that she couldn't get him to come home, and Lex could, hurt more than she had imagined it could.

"Anyway, I gotta get going now, so when you ask your friend where to do lunch, give me a call, OK?" Chloe went on. "Leave a message on my voice mail if I don't answer."

Still digesting the news that Chloe had brought Lex here after her, Lana gave an affirmative and clicked off. When she headed back inside the office, Doyle, Angel, and Cordelia were gathering up what appeared to be various forms of medieval weaponry and preparing to leave.

"There's some demon rising in Pasadena," Cordelia informed Lana as she walked back in the room. "We're going to kill it." Cordelia grabbed a crossbow and started for the door.

Doyle and Angel shot brief glances at each other before Angel turned to Cordelia and said, "Cordy, I think Doyle and I can handle this on our own. Why don't you stay back and keep Lana company?"

Cordelia stopped at the door, a frown crossing her face at being left behind yet again.

"I can hang out here alone, it's no problem," Lana assured them. "Go on. Fight your demon."

"No, you shouldn't be here all by yourself," Cordelia conceded, unable to keep a note of reluctance from her voice. "I don't fancy having my pedicure ruined fighting a slimy demon anyway. Besides, I just bought these shoes last week."

Angel took the crossbow from Cordelia and headed toward the door with Doyle in tow. "We'll be back in a bit."

"Try not to get killed," Cordelia called after them.

"I'll get in a shot for ya," Doyle said, casting a wink at Cordelia before departing.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Well, if he doesn't get killed, hopefully the demon will bleed all over that shirt or something so he has to buy a new one."

"What if it's even uglier than that one?" Lana wanted to know.

Cordelia grimaced. "Good point."

"I don't know, though… clothing issues aside I think he's kind of cute."

"Ew, gross." Cordelia wrinkled her nose. "He's like old enough to be your… I don't know, teacher. Actually, I think he was a teacher once. Scary."

"Come on, he seems like a nice enough guy."

"Oh, he is. Nice, I mean. But somehow I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of him molding young minds. I mean, there might be a generation of twelve-year-old boys out there sporting bowling shirts and hair that's never seen a styling product in its life."

Lana couldn't help it—the visual made her giggle. "Face it, Cordelia. We're destined to fall for men who can't dress themselves."

"Yeah, between flannel boy and Kramer wannabe it's pretty bad," Cordelia agreed. "Well, except the falling for him part. That's all you, Lana."

Lana's only response was a sly grin, which Cordelia pointedly ignored.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, my friend Chloe is here and wants to meet for lunch," Lana said, changing the subject. "I told her I'd ask you guys about a good place and call her back."

"Oh yeah, it's almost lunchtime anyway," Cordelia observed. "There really isn't much downtown… we could eat at Fusion Cafe, I guess. They have pretty good sandwiches, but I have to warn you, it's overrun by FIDM students."

"FIDM?" Lana echoed.

"The fashion school. It's a pretty cool place. I would've liked to go there." A wistful expression crossed Cordelia's face.

"I always did have an interest in fashion design," Lana confessed. "I wouldn't mind checking it out."

"All right. It's not a long walk, and you could always catch the DASH. Parking is a bitch, so it's really not worth the effort to drive."

"I can walk," Lana offered.

"Oh, it wasn't you I was thinking of. It's me. These shoes really weren't made for walking." Cordelia glanced down at a strappy wedge sandal. "Hope you got a couple quarters. The DASH is fifty cents."

Twenty minutes later, Lana and Cordelia strode into the small but airy café located at the corner of Grand and Olympic, right next to the five-floor building and neighboring park that comprised the campus of the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandise. The students were apparently on their lunch hour as well, because the campus and surrounding area was swarming with students sporting their signature tote bags bearing the fashion school's logo.

Fusion Café was, as Cordelia had predicted, overrun with FIDM students. Judging by what Lana had seen, the student body was about 90 female, which really didn't surprise her. Most of the girls were, as their choice of study reflected, impeccably dressed in the latest fashions. While the individual styles of the students differed radically, some more streamlined and classic, others more trendy and current, all remained on the cutting edge of fashion. It was about as opposite from Smallville as you could get.

Oddly enough, Chloe still stuck out like a sore thumb at the table where she sat waiting for Cordelia and Lana, who'd showed up a few minutes late. Even surrounded by fashion students, Chloe's rather, er, flamboyant sartorial choices still singled her out.

When the girls had gotten their sandwiches, Lana made the introductions. "Cordelia, this is my friend Chloe. Chloe, this is Cordelia. She works for Angel investigations."

"Nice to meet you," Chloe said eagerly, reaching out to shake Cordelia's manicured hand.

Cordelia shook back, looking a bit awkward. Who shook hands anymore? "Nice to meet you, too."

Chloe turned to Lana. "So how goes the search for Clark?"

Well, she wasted no time. "Badly. Cordelia saw him in a bar in West Hollywood, but he ran off before Angel could track him down."

"Yes, but don't forget the creep freak part," Cordelia was sure to mention.

Chloe's eyebrows shot up so high they practically jumped off her forehead. "Really? What did he do?"

"Let's just say there is more to your friend Clark than meets the eye," was Cordelia's brief answer. "And my God, who the _heck_ would wear that in public? And she calls herself a fashion student."

Lana and Chloe followed Cordelia's gaze to a flashily dressed girl standing by the counter. She was decked out in a hot-pink blazer over a shirt and skirt of contrasting patterns.

"Hey, I have that shirt," Chloe said, frowning.

Cordelia sipped her iced tea, completely unruffled.

"So tell me more about Clark," Chloe pressed. "What did he do? How do you figure he's different?"

Cordelia looked as nonchalant as though she and Harmony were discussing her latest conquest at the Bronze. "He acted like an asshole. Totally egotistical. Was hot and he knew it. Which come to think of it really doesn't make him that much different than my other boyfriends. Anyway, the fact that he has done this Jekyll-and-Hyde thing and that the Kal I met and the Clark Lana knows are so different, it would naturally lead me to believe he's not like most guys."

Chloe looked frustrated at Cordelia's lack of openness. She sensed there was something the older girl wasn't telling her, and she wasn't completely off-base. She decided to switch tacks. "I did some quick research on Angel investigations, and you guys have a rep for examining the paranormal."

That caught Cordelia's attention. Looking up from her tea, she said with wide eyes, "We have a rep?"

"Yeah. It's amazing what you find out on the Internet," Chloe answered, thinking that perhaps if she stroked Cordelia's ego more she might get something out of her.

"Yeah, well, you all know what a bastion of truth the Internet is. I'm still pissed at the WB for releasing fake IDawson's Creek/I spoilers."

Or maybe not. "You just have to know which sites to check."

"What did you do, hack a government database… again?" Lana asked Chloe.

"No. Jeez, what do you take me for, a hacker?"

"She googled us," Cordelia jumped in without looking up from her tea. "Been there, done that. Hardly found anything and half of it is pure bullshit. And they don't even mention me! What jerks."

Chloe shifted in her chair, and it was apparent to Lana that she'd been busted. She couldn't help but be amused at the way Cordelia could effortlessly shut Chloe down in two seconds, and nobody at the whole of Smallville high seemed to ever manage that—faculty included.

"My sandwich was soggy. And it has onions. I specifically said no onions. I knew there was a reason I hardly eat here anymore." Frowning deeply, Cordelia began meticulously picking onions out of the sandwich with her French-manicured nails.

"I could help you guys," Chloe continued, seizing the last available opportunity to get dirt on Clark and on the mysterious Angel investigations—although considering what kind of employees they hired, Chloe was beginning to wonder about them. "I may not be a hacker, but I know my way around a computer."

"It's OK. Doyle's learned enough from bootlegging porn to get around about anything. And if he can't help, we can always call my witchy friend."

"Who's Doyle?" Chloe asked blankly. "And you have a witchy friend?"

"Doyle is the other assistant," Lana filled Chloe in.

"Really? What does he do? Is he a spy or something?"

"Nah. He's a drunk and a gambler. And possibly a porn addict," was Cordelia's casual response.

"Oh…" Chloe's eagerness was gradually starting to deflate. "And the witchy friend?"

"She stole my boyfriend. And she's not even hot. No way is that hair color natural. Guess computer geeks turn him on. He also seems to have a thing for fake blondes. He'd probably dig you, Chloe. No offense or anything," Cordelia added hastily.

"Is this the guy who owns a Klingon dictionary?" Lana wanted to know.

"Yeah, that guy. And he can like, speak Klingon and stuff. It was highly disturbing."

"You know, I have a Wall of Weird at Smallville High," Chloe spoke up, forcing herself to ignore Cordelia's back-handed insult in favor of getting info. "All the strange paranormal events in our town are immortalized there."

"Meteor stuff," Cordelia affirmed. "Lana filled me in."

Chloe was disappointed. Damn Lana. "Yeah, it's got everything."

"Unfortunately, we can't teleport over to Smallville to check it out, or it would be of use to us," Cordelia remarked. At that moment, the strains of a polyphonic Backstreet Boys song began pouring out of Cordelia's purse. "Hold on, phone call," the brunette said unnecessarily as she rooted around for her phone.

"Hey, Angel, what is it?" she asked with concern upon hearing the deep voice on the other end. "I'm at lunch now… so how'd the case go? ….Oh, that's great… no, I think that'll come out with Zout…you should totally try it, got the slime off my white blouse from our last case. Amazing stuff, I tell ya… oh yes, she is… we're nearby… allright, I'm on my way." Cordelia flipped the phone shut before announcing, "Girls, I gotta take off. Business calls."

"OK." Lana glanced around uncertainly. "Maybe Chloe and I could walk around, check out the school?"

"Not today. I think you have to sign up for a tour or something. Anyway, Angel might want to hear about this Wall of Weird, or whatever. Could give us clues on farm boy," Cordelia fudged, remembering her promise to Angel not to leave Lana alone… even if it meant bringing her meddlesome friend along.

"All right," Lana agreed. "That OK with you, Chloe?"

"Sure!" Chloe chirped. She was overjoyed. She had an "in" to Angel Investigations! Who knew what dirt she could dig up? It would be the story of a lifetime!

"So your associates were out on a case?" Chloe pressed as Cordelia and Lana began gathering up their things. "What are they investigating?"

"It's in the San Fernando Valley. 'Nuff said," was Cordelia's terse reply. "Not pretty at all."

Chloe tried to mask her mounting frustration as the subject of conversation steered to working out the bill between the three of them. Once they had paid, it seemed Cordelia's iced tea had caught up with her. She excused herself for the bathroom. Lana went with her.

"Lana, are you sure your friend is trustworthy?" Cordelia asked while they were in the ladies' room, at the sink.

Lana hesitated. She wanted to give Chloe the benefit of the doubt—she was her best friend. But having caught her in such a major lie really had begun to make Lana question Chloe's honesty. "She's not a bad person. A little overzealous sometimes, but she means well."

"You say she works on your school newspaper?"

"She's editor-in-chief."

"She seems like a real pushy type to me. Reminds me of another bleached blonde I know. Trust me, I have experience with that type. But it's probably even worse because Chloe is a meddlesome reporter, whereas my friend was just meddlesome."

"Chloe can keep a secret when she needs to," Lana defended her friend, although she was more than a little perturbed by Cordelia's inherent mistrust of Chloe. "Believe me, I know."

Cordelia, who had been tugging paper towels from the machine, turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Chloe keep any secrets from you?"

"Only Clark's whereabouts in the past few months." Lana couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Cordelia's eyebrows arched even higher, if that was possible. "So this Chloe chick knew where he was and didn't tell you."

Lana nodded, pretending the task of grabbing paper towels and drying her hands required utmost concentration.

"Oh yeah, she doesn't have her own agenda, not at all," Cordelia said, her sarcasm evident.

"Cordelia, you just met her."

"I know. And I hope for your sake I'm wrong. But while I'm always looking to drum up some business, Doyle warned me about what might happen if we attract too much attention—namely, attention of the wrong kind. If Chloe should try to write something about us, that just might be what we'll get."

With that, Cordelia tossed her used paper towels in the wastebasket and headed for the door. Still vaguely uneasy, Lana followed her but said nothing. She wished she didn't feel the way she did, but she was really beginning to worry if having Chloe here in L.A. presented more of a complication than she thought.

Outside the Fusion Café, a plainly dressed man watched three young women, two brunettes and a bleached blonde, exit the restaurant. His eye remained trained on the group as they strolled to the bus stop. The man strode up the same stop, as casually as he could. He listened as the two brunettes chattered about the movie costume design exhibit at FIDM they would love to see, while the blonde looked dreadfully bored. When the DASH pulled up the stop, the man jumped on the bus after the girls did, making sure to make his way to the back and put an acceptable amount of distance between them.

Still on the bus, he waited until they disembarked at a location toward the very edge of downtown, heading toward Echo Park. The girls hopped off the bus and began walking toward a nondescript office building.

Disembarking from the bus, the man immediately dialed a familiar number on his cell phone. "I'm at Fifth and Beaudry," he told his employer. "She's made contact. They are heading into a building containing several small businesses. I'll look into it."

"See that you do," the voice on the other end of the line said smoothly. "I'd like to know everything that both subjects are doing."

"Yes, sir." The man clicked off, while back in the Beverly Hills hotel, Lex Luthor clicked off his own cell phone and smiled.


End file.
